The warm edge of just beginning
beckons like a newly threaded loom,
taut with possibility -
the threads a tangled coat
of many colors.
There is such unforgivable seduction
in the unknown -
all you can taste
is riddles;
and the shock
of unraveling secrets
reverberates on your tongue
like the low rumble of summer.
Mystery is a pillow
you place your head upon
and beg for happily ever after.
And in the corner of your eye
she sits -
the rich India ink
of her words teasing your anticipation.
If she offered herself up,
skin peeled back
to reveal the raw beauty of flaws,
would you even guess
at the bright wealth she weaves?
For she holds your heart
with the stitches of silver needles
and silken tendrils
that ensnare your efforts
to understand.